


Elanor

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 00:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4120282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Lothlórien, Legolas helps ease Aragorn’s tired mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elanor

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “fic with trans!Aragorn and anything that happens to him and it can be any pairing or whatever just fics with trans!Aragorn in them” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2320.html?thread=5157648#t5157648).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He doesn’t wander far. He needs space, but it doesn’t seem right to leave the halflings alone too long—this world is beautiful but strange. And the younger ones are prone to mischief, which, as joyous as these elves can be, has little place in Lothlórien. He’s left Boromir with them and finds his own place around the other side of a wooded hill, where he can lean against the back of a tall, broad mallorn tree and be at peace.

Peace is hard to come by. Even looking up through the golden leaves at the clear blue sky, the weight is heavy on his shoulders. This would be a trying journey whatever the perils, but the loss of Gandalf makes it so much graver than it seemed before—now everything is Aragorn’s responsibility. He must choose, know everything, and guide them through the dark alone.

The only reason he hears footsteps coming is that the maker gives no effort to hiding them. Three’s no need in this place—perhaps the one safe stronghold still left in Middle Earth, at least for now. He recognizes the gate and attempts a smile when Legolas appears around the side of the tree, the sunlight casting a pale glow around his shoulders. He’s always beautiful, but he looks ever more so in the land of his people, rejuvenated, given good food and rest. It’s good to see him smile again. 

He comes quietly to Aragorn’s side and asks, soft and knowing, “Are you brooding again?”

Aragorn snorts, grinning with the hint of a laugh. “I wouldn’t call it that.” Though in truth, it isn’t far off. He’d meant to give more thought to their road at the end of the river, but it’s a decision he keeps putting off while he can. His heart yearns for Gondor, but he knows Frodo’s path lies in Mordor. He opens his mouth to share this but thinks better of it. He’s become their leader, and it’s for him to choose. Instead, he sighs, “Shouldn’t you be off with Gimli?”

Legolas lifts an eyebrow, slight grin unchanged. “You are not jealous, are you?” A smirk tugs at the side of Aragorn’s lips—more laughter. Legolas is the only one that can still draw it out of him. He lifts a hand to stroke Legolas’ cheek, clean of the stubble Aragorn wears, smooth and strongly cut. Legolas’ eyelashes flutter lower, his face leaning into the touch. It says the answer for Aragorn; no, he isn’t jealous. He grew with elves, and he doesn’t cast such things on love. And no matter how oddly close Legolas has become with their Dwarven companion, the feel of him in Aragorn’s hand shows that nothing’s changed between them. 

As Aragorn’s hand falls away, Legolas says, “I know you carry a large burden since Gandalf’s fall.” He’s too perceptive. His voice is gentle, coaxing and sympathetic. “But you have done well as our leader and will continue to do so. Of that, none of the company has any doubt. ...You should relax while you are in Lothlórien.” They all should. 

It’d be easier to be quiet and accept it, but Aragorn sighs, “Then we’ll have to leave again, and the path is weary.” Only because he trusts Legolas so deeply does he add his personal fears: “And sometimes it feels as though most of the world has become a dark and hopeless place.” 

Legolas’ blue eyes shine with understanding. He murmurs, “There is still love in it.” Then he steps closer, so near that their feet touch, Legolas in thin sandals and Aragorn in heavy boots. Legolas places a hand over Aragorn’s wrist and leans in to Aragorn’s shoulder, brushing his lips across Aragorn’s cheek. In Aragorn’s ear, he whispers, “You carry too much. Let me bring you release.” Aragorn’s lips part, but he doesn’t know what he can say. He knows what Legolas means. 

And he’d be lying to say he never thought about it. Legolas is skilled, clever, and handsome. In all the places Aragorn’s been, he’s seen few sights as gorgeous as his Elven companion. And he’s always had a predilection for elves. But for whatever reason, he didn’t think Legolas felt the same, not in _that_ way, and there were always other things to preoccupy them. 

Now, Lórien’s cast its magic, and it seems there’s nothing more important than the feeling of Legolas before him, the subtle floral smell and the sound of the wind on Legolas’ skin. There’re also secrets Aragorn hasn’t shared and very few in this world know. 

Knowing none of that, Legolas asks, “Do you have love for me?”

Without hesitation, Aragorn admits, “More than I can say.” Legolas smiles wide, his beauty only growing. He takes that half a step around Aragorn’s body that he needs to place a kiss on Aragorn’s lips. Aragorn barely has time to close his eyes before it’s over.

Then Legolas is sinking slowly to his knees. He sits at Aragorn’s feet amidst the grass and moss and open flowers, looking up in complete trust and adoration. Aragorn can’t look away, so Legolas does so first. He closes his eyes and presses a chaste kiss to Aragorn’s crotch, lingering long enough to make Aragorn’s breath hitch. 

As Legolas’ hands lift to the ties of Aragorn’s trousers, Aragorn hesitates, muttering, “Legolas...”

Immediately, Legolas’ eyes flicker up again. He frowns in concern, and when Aragorn gives him no answer, he asks, “Should I not?”

It would probably be wisest to end this now. But Aragorn can’t quite bring himself to say so. They may never get another chance at this. Licking his lips, Aragorn slowly explains, “You might not find what you expect.”

Easily, Legolas replies, “I expect nothing.”

“And you may find nothing.”

Legolas’ brow knits together in confusion. But he softens quickly and says, sounding so _sure_ , “You know Elves better than that. We do not judge the way Men do.” Aragorn exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He knows that, of course, but the knowledge is a different thing in practice, with a man he very much respects. So he nods, and Legolas nods back: permission to go on.

Legolas’ nimble fingers work the ties open, and he places his hands flat along Aragorn’s hips, drawing the dark fabric down. He doesn’t pause, even thought it must be obvious immediately that Aragorn doesn’t share the same body as most men. Only when Aragorn’s trousers are stretched across his thighs does Legolas stop, his face so tantalizingly close to Aragorn’s bare skin. 

He eyes the pink-brown mound between Aragorn’s legs, covered in a matt of black curls. Aragorn can’t help but tense, waiting on a reaction, but there’s no disapproval in Legolas’ eyes. He observes Aragorn the way any lover would watch another, and then his eyes flutter half closed, and he tilts forward to press a kiss against Aragorn’s lips. Aragorn grunts in surprise and arousal—he hasn’t felt a mouth there in many years, since Elladan and Elrohir caught him bathing in the woods outside Imladris. He should’ve known from them that he could trust another Elven prince. They were good to him, like all of Elrond’s family, and never once called him by the wrong words.

The only difference between them and now is that he and Legolas, somehow, in just this one journey, have been through more together. It’s tied them tight, as with all the company, but especially between the two of them. Aragorn knows of the Mirkwood penchant for _play_ , but there’s a deeper meaning to Legolas’ gaze, to his touch. He slips his tongue out to lave along Aragorn’s lips, catching the crinkled flesh in between, and Aragorn hisses, one hand shooting down into Legolas’ hair. He can’t help but fist the silk-soft locks, carefully avoiding the braids he himself wove in this morning. Legolas looks up at him through darkened, hazy eyes, but doesn’t pull back. Legolas’ tongue winds up and down the open slit, encouraging Aragorn’s hips to tremble, wanting to jerk forward. 

It’s difficult not to hump Legolas’ face. It takes restraint for Aragorn to stand tall against the tree, while Legolas’ hands splay over his thighs, fingers running up to squeeze at his sensitive flesh. Legolas laps at him with a special vigor—it’s too skilled, like everything he does, for it to be just for Aragorn. He has to wonder just who his elf has practiced on before, but he scolds himself for that; it’s none of his business. He tries to enjoy, instead, just this moment, and Legolas makes it very easy. He opens his lips wider to apply a spark of suction, and then he lifts his chin, his tongue snaking between the folds, until he finds the little bulb that makes Aragorn gasp and arch. Legolas wraps his tongue around it and sucks _hard_ , while Aragorn writhes in place and _moans_.

Legolas milks that spot out until Aragorn is trembling, growling, “ _Legolas_ —” Then Legolas’ eyes flicker up again, a smirk at the edges of his open mouth. He worms his way back down, pressing his tongue deeper as he goes, probing at Aragorn’s inner walls to find the small opening that’s already dilating open and dribbling—nothing makes Aragorn as wet as a wanton elf. Legolas plays on that; he moans into Aragorn’s body, his cheeks flushing and his lashes lowering, like he’s never tasted anything better than _Aragorn_. Aragorn groans. He’d be soaking wet even if it weren’t for Legolas’ greedy tongue, and he’s so loose he could drop onto Legolas right here. 

But that would require leaving Legolas’ mouth, and he couldn’t do that. He’s pinned against the tree by sheer lust, while Legolas thrusts his tongue inside Aragorn’s channel. He pushes in and draws partway out, sucking at the outside, only to drive inside again, twisting along the way. Aragorn’s panting hard, and he runs his other hand along Legolas’ face, cupping Legolas’ chin, stroking his cheek, but careful not to disrupt his mouth. Legolas makes love to Aragorn with his tongue and swallows all of Aragorn’s juices until Aragorn thrusts forward. His hand shoots up to cover his mouth, and he screams into it, bursting his release into Legolas’ waiting mouth. 

Legolas licks up everything that Aragorn spills. He continues tasting Aragorn right through it, only drawing back to suck and lick at the little nub at the top of his slit. Aragorn’s hips have begun shuddering beyond his control. By the time he finishes, he’s completely spent. He feels tired and dizzy, all the weight of the world gone. 

Legolas carefully reties Aragorn’s trousers and opens his arms in invitation. Aragorn slumps down into them, sprawling in the earth next to his lover. Legolas smiles and leans forward, drawing their mouths together. He tastes a tad salty but nonetheless pleasant. Legolas holds Aragorn’s chin through it, fondly petting the scruff. 

When they part, Legolas purrs, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Aragorn admits, though his heart’s beating fast and he’s breathing hard. He wants to return the favour, but perhaps not just yet, and Legolas makes no show of taking it. Leaning his head back against the bark, Aragorn sighs, “It’s true the darkness has grown, but I suppose I can’t be too worried for it with light like yours around.” Legolas laughs, clear and lilting. He sounds like he could sing at any moment. 

Instead, he settles next to Aragorn to wait for their strength to return, and perhaps the furthering of their love. They shouldn’t have waited so long. But at least the burden is less, and when Aragorn turns to kiss Legolas again, he’s truly content, all the weight of the world so very far away.


End file.
